I climbed into the back of the taxi with a huff, waiting impatiently as the driver loaded the trunk with my bags. I only took what I needed and nothing that the Stavros's gave me, only what I bought with the money I earned from working as a maid for the family.

Finally after what felt like hours the driver slid into his seat and sped off down the driveway. I was afraid that any second Marco would come sprinting after us, gripping the simple two worded note I left him in his fist. I forced my eyes to stay ahead of me and to stay away from the mirrors until we passed the gates where I let out a breath and leaned back into the seat.

"Running from something?"

I looked up from the ring on my finger to see the driver looking at me through the review mirror. Appearances didn't matter to me so I never bothered to try to remember what he looked like. All I could see was his dark skin and brown eyes. Other than that I didn't care.

Maybe he came from the same place my ancestors did, Egypt, or maybe India, or maybe the Middle East. Like I said, I didn't care.

"You could say that," I mumbled. How many girls has this driver seen who jump in the back seat of the cab with suitcases in hand and asking to drive them to the airport?

"You're breaking his heart," he said knowingly.

I twisted the ring around my finger, the only possession I kept that the Stavros family gave me. Well that Marco gave me.

I bit my lip and looked out the window where pelts of rain hit the window in a steady rhythm. "Trust me, it's better this way."

Marco and Xander were best friends. Since they were a little over a year apart I wouldn't say Xander was Marco's hero or role model but Marco was the only one who could be able to put up with Xander's bull shit through the years which brought them close. But I know he wouldn't be able to put up with this Xander's womanizing ways this time, not when it affected him in the process.

I was doing them all a favor, especially their parent, Leo and Maria by leaving. I wouldn't be the one to break their family apart and if it meant that I would live in silent torture for the rest of my life and break Marco's heart in the process, then well that was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

I knew first-hand what it's like to lose your family and I would never wish that upon the Stavros's, not when they were the only family I knew for years.

We drove in silence the rest of the way to the airport. I didn't let myself break down until I was safely secured in a stall in the woman's bathroom, waiting for my flight to Maimi, my mother's home town.

She was born and raised in Miami until she wanted to go see what else was in the world. She travelled up to New York where she became pregnant with me by a greedy monster who was had a wife and a young daughter, neither of whom my mom knew about. The man's name was Quinton and he gave more attention to his own toilet than me and my mother. Thankfully though after word spread around about his infidelity his distant friend and business partner hired my mom as his sons' permanent nanny so she could earn money. Being the nanny of none other than Alexander and Marco Stavros earned her big bucks, but of course that's also because Maria and Leo always had a big heart and didn't want us to struggle. We got a small apartment in the city where almost every day Leo would drop his sons off at in the morning. All other days of the week we would go to their mansion in the suburbs.

From the very beginning the Stavros's were in my life and I've been grateful every day since.

I was born one month before Marco but the very small age difference never bothered us although when we were younger Xander used to tease us that I was older than him and therefore the male in the relationship. Even when we were kids everyone knew we were meant to be.

We were inseparable since birth, especially since my mom couldn't leave me on my own but Maria never minded that I was always tagging along as well. She always saw it as an opportunity for her sons to learn how to treat women correctly. Xander apparently never got the memo.

When I arrived in Miami I was met with a surprising uncomfortable heat that made my ancestors roll over in their graves. So I sucked it up and wound my way through the city, looking for any place to stay for the night. I found a motel cheap enough but safe enough where I spent the next two weeks staying in, until I stumbled across the Egyptian restaurant that my mother used to always tell me about. I waltzed in, not expecting for a man who would have been my Mom's age at the time to come barreling towards me and lifting me up into a hug. He knew immediately that I was my mother's daughter and after he was finally done greeting me he introduced himself as Shai, my mom's oldest friend. I only remembered the name from when my mom spoke about him every now and then and I knew I should've recognized him from my mom's funeral since he was the only person who showed up that I hadn't met before but that experience was so traumatizing for me that I blocked out most of it.

He asked what I was doing in Miami since he knew I lived in New York and I told him everything. He just seemed like the type of person you spill your guts to, even if he was a stranger. But if my mom loved him so much than I could too.

He listened the whole time, offering me condolences and frowns but also a place to stay and work. His restaurant was known for one special thing, its entertainment which was a belly dancer and fate would have it that his only dancer had just quit. I wasn't a professional by any means but my mom did teach me a few moves in our living room when I was younger. He also assured me that it was in my blood. Not only were my ancestors naturally good at it but my mom was amazing at it according to Shai.

So then began my new life just way I began my other one, on the shoulders of warm hearted people.

...

"What do you think you're doing here Rumi?"

The dark long haired underwear model looked up to me with a smirk plastered on his face. "My shoot ended early so I headed over here to catch a show."

I rolled my eyes, something I did often when I was speaking to my roommate and closest friend. "You've seen me perform countless times before and you know your Dad doesn't like you being in his restaurant anymore, especially to watch me."

The first time I met Rumi it was hard to see the resemblance between him and Shai, his father, until he pulled out some old photographs when he was younger and then I instantly saw the striking similarities. Rumi, with his long hair that reaches his shoulders and scruffy beard, he looked exactly like a Persian Prince. And don't even get me started on his body. There was a reason why he was hired to become an underwear model. Even I had to admit it was fun to look at.

"Hey don't tell me you didn't want me to knock out that perv like I did. He had his hands on you." Rami's eyes flashed with anger, the same anger he feels any time I'm in trouble.

"And I was handling it," I repeated for the hundredth time since that incident.

He shrugged carelessly and lifted his glass to his lips, his eyes never leaving mine. I wondered who served him a drink. Everyone who works here knows he's not allowed to come in during my performing hours in fear that he'll knock out another one of our customers. It was probably that new girl. She's been waiting to sink her nails into him ever since she started here.

"What do you want for dinner tonight," I asked when he didn't respond. Even though I should've kicked him out, I figured I would save myself a text and ask him now.

"Don't worry babe I'm cooking. It'll be all ready by the time you get home tonight."

"You mean you won't be busy banging a girl when I walk through the door," I asked with artificial shock.

His ever present smile morphed into a scowl. "That was one time babe and I was wasted."

"Two times actually," I corrected, holding up two fingers for him to see. "With in the past three months and don't make me count how many times I've had to hear your late night friends screaming from next door or how many times I've seen you walk through the door in the morning after doing the walk of shame."

A small smirk spread across his lips again. "Are you jealous Eliza?"

I rolled my eyes, again, and said, "Am I jealous to be one of your conquests? Not at all babe." I leaned down to kiss his cheek, something I've grown used to do doing since I've met him and his dad. "See you tonight Ru," I said before turning around and heading to the back where my costume was waiting for me.

As I walked away I heard Rumi mumble under his breath something about me not being a conquest. I've known for a long time that Rumi had feelings for me, it was obvious from the way he treated me and how much Shai brought up the idea of us marrying. I wished I would have found out before I agreed to get an apartment with Rumi three years ago after three years of living with his dad. But I didn't really have much of a choice so I played the oblivious fool ever since I figured it out.

After Marco I knew I didn't want to fall in love with anyone else or even have that kind of control over someone's heart, it made me feel sick which is exactly why I never felt comfortable with Rumi's feelings. It's been five years but still the guilt it overwhelming at times.

Besides, I don't think I could have feelings for anyone else anyways, even if that person happens to be a super-hot Persian Prince look alike underwear model.

When I sashayed my way out on stage with two other girls as customers turned in their seats to watch I noticed that Rumi had disappeared but Shai was sporting a scowl on his face as he looked at me. He must have saw his son and kicked him out before he could get a free show and possibly chase out customers who looked me too long.

Two hours later after two breaks and too long of time spent swinging my hips I left the stage finally to dress in my day clothes and head home for the day.

I was already thinking up ways on how to excuse myself to tuck into bed early tonight so I could avoid any potential alone time with Rumi while we each probably had a glass of red for the night that he most definitely would serve with dinner.

Period. Blame on your period. Guys always get grossed out by periods and that will excuse any sexual advancements from his side for the next week. Or two. You could tell him you have very long irregular menstrual cycles.

With a perfect plan solidified in my head I began feel guilty. It wasn't that I hated Rumi or thought badly of him. I just wasn't ready yet.

It's been five years! When will you ever be ready?

Then thoughts of possibly beginning to move on crossed my mind as well. Maybe Rumi could help me with that. He was the opposite of bad looking by a mile and he's been nothing but nice and sweet to me.

As I walked down the street for my apartment which was only a block away, I tried to imagine Rumi naked which wasn't hard because he is a underwear model so he doesn't bother to hide anything, then I try to imagine him on top of me, his hands roaming over my body and his lips on mine. But like any other time I try to fantasize about a man memories from that night five years ago pop into my head and any heat I felt disappeared leaving my underwear as wet as the Sahara desert.

"Eliza."

I unintentionally clenched my fists at the sound of Xander's voice in my head. I haven't heard it in five years, nor had I heard any of the Stavros's voices but that doesn't mean they don't haunt my thoughts.

"Eliza," he repeated again in my head. My stomach flipped over in my stomach and tears began to sting my eyes, just like they always do when I let myself remember Marco's nineteenth birthday.

Suddenly a hand wrapped around my wrist and I spun around to come face to face with my culprit. I was ready to shout profanities and threats until I looked into his familiar eyes that looked right back into my own.

Xander fûcking Stavros.

"Finally," he exasperated. He released the hold on my wrist and took a step back. "We need to talk."

Instead of agreeing with him which would the rational and adult like thing to do, I do the same thing I did five years ago. I ran like hell.